The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-21 19:15:28 -

The rain fell on the moor. It was a cold, gray sheet. I walked through it. My boots were heavy. They were wet leather. They smelled of mud and salt. I had come a long way. I was far from home. I was far from everything I knew. I was an exile. I was a ghost. I carried a map. It was old. The paper was thin. It was soft from handling. The lines were faded. They were black ink. They had bled into...

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